In The Good Way
by sandra70
Summary: Come on, you all know what this is about. Yes, it involves shackles.


_**In The Good Way**_

Killian is almost done writing down his report about the latest bar brawl at the _Rabbit Hole_ – writing it down in longhand, mind you; typing is absolutely not his thing and takes him five times longer, which is why he refuses learning it. A keyboard and a hook don't go well together anyway.

Just when he finishes the report with his elegant signature, Emma walks up to his desk. "I need your help with something," she tells him casually.

He closes the file and pushes back his chair. "Sure, love. What's up?"

"The intercom of the interrogation room," she explains and turns around to head into the direction of said room, "it's acting up again."

" _Again?_ " he echoes pensively as he follows her. "Since when–"

"Yeah," she interrupts, "yesterday, when you were talking to that viking, it kept going on and off."

"When I..." Killian frowns. "Why were you even listening to that?"

Emma stops and turn around. "Nevermind," she says lightly, "it was... I just..." She waves her hand vaguely through the air. "Accidentally," she adds quickly, and Killian narrows his eyes, because this strikes him as very odd, but before he can say anything, she goes on, "I couldn't understand a thing."

"It must be the speaker then," he says a little smugly, proud of his diligently achieved technical knowledge, "we have to check the connection of the wires and–"

"First let me see if it works," she tells him almost impatiently and motions to the open door of the interrogation room. "I just need you to go in there, and I'll check if I can hear anything at all."

She disappears into the adjacent room from where the interrogation can be observed via one-side mirror and intercom, and Killian huffs. "That's all I'm useful for?" he grumbles, only mildly annoyed, as he trudges into the empty interrogation room. "It's not like I haven't learned anything since I've settled in this century."

The room is relatively small, with two chairs on either side of a table, and a huge mirror facing the chair where the suspect's supposed to sit. It's a one-way mirror, and he knows Emma can see him from the observation room. He looks right into it and spreads his arms in a _what-now?_ gesture.

"Can you hear me?" Emma's strangely ghostly voice comes out of the loud speaker in the corner.

"Loud and clear," he replies, "what about you?"

"Can you sit on the chair, please," she demands instead of an answer, and he plops down on the chair in frustration about her fruitless endeavors, because whether he sits on a chair or balances on his head will surely make no difference with if she can hear him or not.

As soon as he sits down, he feels a strange sensation of heaviness in his legs and a solid warmth spreading in his lower abdomen, like he's being glued to the chair, but somehow from the _inside_. It makes no sense at all. And then he feels the unmistakable buzz of magic coursing through his body from limb to limb. Instinctively, he tries to get up again, but apparently his legs have decided to refuse performance. Some sort of invisible dead weight is pulling his arms down, and before he even can react, cold metal is closing around his right wrist and the leather sheath that holds his hook, and he's trapped in his seat.

He clenches his fist in alarm, but he's firmly shackled. "What the hell," he growls, a hot pang of fear shooting through him, as he has no idea who might have caused this – and, worse, if Emma was attacked, too. "Emma?" he calls, the worry evident in his voice. "Are you alright?"

For a second, a cold hand grips his heart, and he's close to panicking, but a moment later she saunters into the room with a secretive little smile on her face. "No need to worry, I'm fine."

Even though this is nothing he's even remotely taken into consideration right now, it takes him only the blink of an eye to understand that this is _her_ doing, and the way she sways her hips when she approaches him and the smug little lip bite tell him she's definitely up to no good. He raises his eyebrows. "What's this about, Swan?" he wants to know.

She's standing close enough now to caress her fingertips along his scruffy cheek. "Oh, I think you know what this is about," she hums.

The thrill of eager anticipation makes the skin at the base of his neck prickle, and he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in tease. "Hmm, are you craving some alone time with your husband?" he inquires playfully. "To get that, all you have to do is ask."

Emma runs her index finger along the strong curve of his jaw and follows the outlines of his left ear, sending a little shiver down his spine. "I know," she replies, "But what I have in mind... requires _this_." She motions vaguely in the direction of his immobilized arms.

He has no idea what his Swan actually has in mind, but he's only too eager to find out. "What's that, me in shackles?"

She's stepped behind him now where he can't see her unless he twists his neck, her hands lightly resting on his shoulders, and suddenly her hot breath fans along the side of his throat when she speaks. "Oh, come on," she whispers, "don't tell me with all the times I tied you up you've never imagined anything like this happening!"

He chuckles, because of bloody course she's right. "Assuming by _this_ you mean you putting me in shackles to have your wicked wanton way with me–" he slowly swipes his tongue across his bottom lip – "then yes, I have indeed envisioned it."

Emma smiles. "Thought so," she comments. "Well, your dreams are coming true now."

Slowly, she swings one long leg across his lap and straddles him, eliciting a sharp breath from him when she settles on his crotch. "You're way too overdressed," she comments before quickly and nimbly unbuttoning his waistcoat. She doesn't bother with his shirt though – instead, she simply rips it open, which has him gasp, and all its buttons spring away, fly through the room and end up making tiny clattering noises on the floor. She pushes waistcoat and shirt to the curve of his shoulders, exposing his torso. "Ah, that's much better."

Bringing her palms flat to his stomach, she strokes them over the planes of his chest, raking her fingers through the wiry hair like she loves to do, and Killian watches her, mesmerized by her smile and her hypnotic eyes when she comes nearer and nearer.

"I've been craving you all day," she tells him huskily, her gaze dropping to his lips for a moment.

"So," he replies, his own voice barely more than a raucous whisper, "have me."

Finally, Emma surges forward to capture his mouth with hers in a searing, languid kiss that he doesn't waste time responding to. Automatically, he strains against the cuffs that immobilize him, because _not_ holding her while they kiss feels like, somehow, he's not doing enough. But her magic keeps him in place, the hold of the metal too strong. His Swan is in complete control, and he loves what she does with it. Slowly, her hips start to rock against him, her core rhythmically pressing down on his inevitably growing erection, and he groans into her mouth when she swipes her thumbs over his nipples.

She picks up on that and takes them between her thumbs and forefingers, gently rolling and tweaking them until his groans becomes sighs, higher-pitched and eager. When her mouth leaves his and slants across his jaw and down the side of his throat, Killian throws back his head, getting lost in the sensation of the all-consuming fire she incents on his skin. Her hips are sliding back and forth over the bulge in his pants in a slow, sensual rhythm, matching the press of her lips along the curve of his neck, and he's blissfully helpless. She hums in contentment against his collarbone and tugs at his nipples a little harder.

"Oh, bloody hell," he curses, arching his back to press himself into her wicked touch, and Emma chuckles.

"Not enough, is it?" she breathes.

"Not even remotely close," he pants, and then – curse or relief? – her moves stop.

Suddenly, the pressure of her weight on his erection is gone, and she gets off him. Not sure whether he should complain or encourage her, he looks at her with an unmistakable urge in his eyes.

"Be patient," she playfully scolds and reaches for his belt buckle. His eyes drop to her hands as they move meticulously and make quick work of his button and zipper. When she tugs at his jeans, he presses his heels down on the floor to lift his hips so she can pull them down a little, not much, just enough for her to reach into his boxer briefs and take him out, eliciting a sigh of relief from him.

"Ah, I love that you're always hard for me," she praises and, standing at his side, leans forward to whisper huskily into his ear, "Let's see if I can make you a little harder..."

Her words and her seductive tone are enough to make him twitch in eager anticipation, and Killian draws a sharp breath when she wraps her fingers around his heated flesh again. Slowly, she starts to caress him with long and languid strokes, thoroughly from base to tip and back again, occasionally giving his head a little squeeze and swiping her thumb over the shiny skin of his tip.

Arousal is coursing through his veins like a rush, and he feels like his insides are melting while Emma is looking very pleased with herself, because _yes_ , she _is_ making him even harder. He knows he's putty in her hands, always has been, but he loves when she's confident like that. Oh, he likes being in control in bed, without a doubt – but he has no problem with letting her take the lead when she's in the mood, and today she most definitely is. His eyes are glued to her hand as she settles into a lazy, maddening rhythm and pumps him languidly, just like he loves it.

He's completely defenseless, and it feels amazing. "Bloody hell, Emma," he pants, "I need more..."

Suddenly, she bends forward and latches her mouth onto his exposed right nipple without warning, teasing the pebbled peak with her teeth and then sucking so hard that it teeters on the verge of painful, just like he loves it. Simultaneously, her hand is tightening around him, and quickly her moves gain speed and force that make his head start to spin. Every muscle in his body seems to tense, and he can already feel a telltale tingle at the base of his spine. This isn't how he wanted to come, without her, but her fist is mercilessly pumping him hard and fast now, and if this is how _she_ wants it, then how on earth can he resist? He throws his head back and groans, a deep and primal sound, and he knows he's at her mercy: she's bloody going to make him shoot his load right onto the table, and there's nothing he can do about it, so he doesn't fight it and lets himself fall completely.

"Yes, Emma, that's it," he encourages in a strained voice, "Gods, you're killing me..." His hips are jerking up and forward in sync with the relentless pace of her hand. "Almost there," he pants, squeezing his eyes shut, his face already contorting into a grimace of pure lust and bliss, "pump me, faster, love..."

– but then she suddenly stops, releasing his nipple from her mouth and his cock from her grasp, and his eyes snap open in shock.

"No no no no no," he pants, "please, why–"

A pearly giggle falls from her lips as she takes a few steps back from him, leaving him alone with his raging, throbbing erection. "Oh, we're not done yet, Deputy," she teases and he swears to himself he shall make her pay for this, and _dearly_.

"Minx," he hisses, and even though he's in a state of physical frustration, his head still spinning, he's melting with love and admiration for his Swan and for how well she knows him and his body, bringing him so near to the point of no return that he could already feel his balls squirm underneath his skin, yet not near enough to let him fall over. Usually, that's _his_ tactics, so he guesses it's only fair that she gets to do it to him now – and he knows his release will be so much more satisfying this way.

As if she's reading his thoughts, Emma promises, "Don't worry, I'll make it worthwhile."

"I have no doubt," he replies in a strained voice and licks his dry lips as he watches her pull the thin turtleneck sweater over her head and throw it carelessly over her shoulder.

"It's getting hot in here," she comments as she unbuttons and unzips her own jeans and, after getting rid of her boots, puts on a big show shimmying out of them, swaying her hips like a belly dancer. Then the infernal siren turns around and bends over to pull the garment completely down her legs so she can step out of it, pushing her delectable bottom towards him, and his reflexive reaction consists of a growl rumbling deep in his chest and a twitch of his cock.

"Like what you see, do you?" she teases smugly, wiggling her arse a little more and giving him a good full view of her black lace thong disappearing between her cheeks. For a moment, his eyes flutter shut, and he pictures pressing her down on the table and giving her a good spanking before ripping the flimsy thing off her and fucking right into her until she begs for mercy.

"Aye," he presses through clenched teeth and balls his cuffed hand to a fist behind his back, the desire to smack her hard on that fine backside as urgent as it is futile. "Why don't you come here and let me... feel you?" His voice has a very urging tone, and his Swan obviously decides that it's time to push things a little further and turns around to him again. As she slowly saunters nearer, like a pantheress on the hunt, he can see her own taut nipples peeking through the black lace of her matching bra. _Twitch_. Oh, she's _really_ set out to give him a _hard_ time today.

When she's walked up to him, standing so close that he could touch her if his arms weren't restrained, she brings her hand down to touch herself through her panties, lazily massaging her core for a few moments, accompanied by a wanton moan.

"Just looking at you makes me so wet," she tells him deviously and slips two fingers underneath the lace, pushing them inside herself. "Hmmmm," she hums and throws back her head, bringing her left hand up to palm her breast and tweak her own nipple, fucking herself on her fingers while he can only helplessly watch. "I'm _so_ close..."

 _Twitch_. His cock is throbbing now, and the squishy sound her fingers make as they glide in and out, brings him dangerously close to lose it.

But then, thankfully, she stops herself and reaches out to caress his scruffy cheek, and automatically he leans into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Finally, she bends forward to put her hands on his thighs and nudges them apart so that she can drop to her knees between his spread legs.

She doesn't touch him yet, but the way she's looking at his cock with her mouth slightly open and her tongue restlessly moving inside makes him swell all hard again, so hard it's almost painful.

"Glorious," she whispers and leans forward to gather his cock between her breasts, squeezing them together with both hands, making him gasp. She eyes him hungrily before she purrs, "So hard and soft at the same time," and squeezes him again.

"Bloody hell," he almost whimpers, "Emma, love... _please_..."

She releases him and wraps her fingers around his base. "Funny, isn't it?" she muses, a devilish twinkle in her eyes, "I'm on my knees, and you're the one who's begging."

Killian swallows, his throat feeling as dry as sandpaper, but before he can even open his mouth to say anything in return, she inclines her head, her tongue out, and swipes it along his underside with a slow, languid lick. _Twitch_. He clenches his fist so hard that his fingernails are cutting into his palm, and then, finally, she gets to work and lunges forward, closing her lips firmly around him right below his head. When she slides down his length painfully slowly, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in deep, she makes the most lecherous sound he's ever heard, and that in combination with the vibrations he feels everywhere in his body makes him almost come on the spot. Then she slides back to the tip, grazing her teeth along his silky skin. She repeats the moves a few times slowly, taking him in a little deeper every time, until he's good and slick, and then she starts the real assault and blows him so fiercely that he knows his knees wouldn't hold him upright if he weren't already sitting.

He's panting hard now and groans when the tension builds up again in no time, his baser instincts taking over the helm. His gaze falls into the one-way mirror where he can see himself helplessly tied to the chair and the elegant curve of Emma's bare back as she kneels between his spread legs. Her blonde locks are a wild cascade as her head is bobbing up and down. He wishes nothing more than to entangle his fingers in her hair and pull it, guide her moves, but he's condemned to absolute passiveness. Without it being a deliberate move, he sees in the mirror that his hips are bucking and thrusting forward again to meet her moves, because if that's what she wants, then he'll bloody well deliver. It's only a matter of moments now, he can feel that he's almost there.

"Oh God, Emma yes," he spurs her on breathlessly as if it was necessary, "come on, fuck me with your mouth, yes..."

– and just when he feels he's about to explode into her mouth and shoot all of his hot release down her throat, just needing a few more strokes, she suddenly releases him with a wet pop and leans back on her heels to smile up at him devilishly.

His pulse is thrumming madly, and a droplet of sweat is rolling down his temple as he looks at her almost in horror, robbed once more of his release, his cock trembling and throbbing painfully.

He begs without shame, "Emma, _please_ , I..."

She tilts her head and bites her lower lip – red and swollen from the incredible blow job she just performed, even if she didn't bring it to its much needed end – and slowly rises to her feet, looming over him like a goddess as she tells him, "You're so gorgeous when you're wrecked like that."

He huffs a desperate little laugh. "I appreciate the compliment, but–"

Emma shakes her head. "Oh, shut up," she cuts him off and, putting both hands to his shoulders to steady herself, climbs him. She doesn't bother getting rid of her underwear, she just pushes the flimsy lace aside before sinking down on him with a deep exhale that shows him she's been craving this as much as he has. He can feel that she's indeed dripping wet, and it drives him even more crazy.

He swallows thickly, holding his breath for a moment, as if he could still his body's reaction to being buried in her smooth, slick heat. "Love," he rasps, "I'm afraid I won't be able to–"

She interrupts him with a dirty kiss and murmurs against his mouth, "Don't worry, playtime's over."

Then she starts to move, and this time it's not a playful swaying of her hips or a teasing slide. Her body rises and falls with the help of her own weight and her hands braced on his shoulders as she rides him in a brutal pace, whispering filthy words into his ear, which is quite uncharacteristic for her; normally he's the one with the dirty talk, while she gets more and more monosyllabic the more heated their lovemaking becomes. Today, however, she's apparently in the mood to let him know how much she loves the feeling of his cock filling her, how wet she's been for him all day – and how she, too, has fantasized about something like this on past occasions, about putting shackles on him and then use him to quench her thirst, even before they were a thing.

"Take all you need," he spurs her on while he does his best to meet her moves, to thrust his hips up as hers slam down on him. "Go ahead, love, _wreck_ me."

Only a moment later she does exactly that and sends him tumbling over the edge with a feral groan while she needs just two more pushes before she collapses atop of him with a cry. For a few moments, the small room is quiet except for their heavy breathing as they sit completely motionless, Killian's head thrown back with closed eyes and Emma's forehead dropped to his shoulders. Both shudder and tremble as the aftershocks of their orgasms ripple through them.

It takes Emma a full minute until she feels capable of moving so much as a finger. Her limbs are delightfully heavy, and she barely manages to lift her head from his shoulder to look at him. His face is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his eyes are still hooded as if he isn't quite yet down from his high, but he smiles. She returns the smile and drops her forehead against his, relishing in the feeling of his thumb tenderly caressing the skin of her hip.

When it dawns on her that that just... _can't be_ , because his arms should be restrained behind his back, she looks down and sees that his hand and hook are resting against her hips. Her incredulous gaze fixes on his.

"What the hell?" she says, still a little breathlessly. "When–"

He smiles. "A while ago." Then he tilts his head in a shrug. _"Pirate."_

She rolls her eyes, feeling sort of cheated in some absurd way. "Why didn't you–"

"I like it when you take the lead," Killian cuts her off firmly, before he adds pointedly, "Well, _occasionally_."

She huffs a laugh. "I wanted to do this for a long time, you know."

"Mhm," he hums, his warm thumb continuing to stroke her skin, "I believe you mentioned that earlier."

Emma licks her lips in a gesture that appears to hold some sort of embarrassment and links her fingers at the back of his neck. "You know, I never told you that, but..." she hesitates, and he narrows his eyes, waiting for her to continue – "Every time I tied you up and left you behind..." She sighs and admits, "I was sorry."

Killian purses his lips in a nonchalant _so-what_ gesture and tilts his head. "I wasn't."

She raises her eyebrows at him skeptically. "Come on. You were _livid!"_ she points out.

"Aye," he concedes without hesitation, and for a second, she feels a tiny pang of guilt. Then he tells her, "But I also knew that one day you'd tie me up and _not_ leave."

There's that mix of flirtatiousness and sincerity that never fails to touch her heart, like always when she thinks of the persistence he's shown over the years. She looks into his eyes, and they are shining with love and tender tease.

"Yeah," she replies, "guess I had to make up for the past at some point."

He raises his hand to her face and smooths an errand lock behind her ear, smiling softly, and shakes his head once. "No, Swan, you didn't."

She lunges forward and kisses him fully on the lips because there's nothing else to say, and she really isn't in the mood to break their connection yet. It seems like Killian isn't either; he's still inside her, and to her pleasant surprise she can feel him growing hard again. She hums appreciatively when she feels the pressure against her inner walls.

"Now..." he wraps his arms around her waist and pushes himself up from the chair. She holds on to his neck and gasps, because his sudden move thrusts himself deeper inside her. He takes a step forward and deposits her on the table, pushing her down on her back and finally hovering over her. "I think it's time to continue this interrogation..."


End file.
